


The End

by ShandyCandy278



Series: Undertale One-Shots [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Death, Destruction, Destruction of the Multiverse, I don't know why I wrote this, I should be doing homework, Ink I'm sorry, Loss of Emotions, Memory Loss, PLEASE READ TAGS, Rebirth, Self Harm, Suicide, angst then fluff?, implied suicide, mentioned death, mentioned panic attacks, not graphic, oof, tags are very important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22294573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShandyCandy278/pseuds/ShandyCandy278
Summary: The Undertale Fandom can't be active forever.
Relationships: None
Series: Undertale One-Shots [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587931
Comments: 53
Kudos: 111





	The End

**Author's Note:**

> I do not know why I wrote this or how on Earth this came to be when I'm trying to write more soul content.
> 
> I am also sorry for what I am about to put you through.
> 
> And if you haven't read the tags, then I will put this here:
> 
> WARNING!
> 
> In this story, there is:
> 
> Character Death  
> Mentioned Character Death  
> Destruction of Worlds  
> Suicide  
> Implied Suicide  
> And Lots of Feels.
> 
> If ANY of these do not sit well with you, even with the knowledge of a bittersweet ending, then DON'T READ IT! Put your mental health before your curiosity, because that is more important to me than the possibility of getting feedback.
> 
> YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
> 
> And for those of you who are about to continue onwards and read anyways, I am sorry, but I hope that you enjoy it.

He didn’t know when it had started. Or how, or why.

But one day, he was looking through the Doodle Sphere, and he noticed that the colors didn’t flow as heavily as they had before.

Of course, this happened every once in a while, but he could recall recognizing the same exact thing happening last week.

And the week before.

And the week before that.

He ignored it- surely it would pass with time. It always did, eventually. It didn’t mean anything important or drastic, and it most certainly did not send a shiver of fear through his body.

He just had to wait, and everything would be okay.

…

…

…

_Right?_

* * *

Waiting had done nothing.

In fact, things had only gotten worse.

In an attempt to preserve himself, he stopped using his paints for the simplest of things. He let his creations fall apart into their respective colors (if that, sometimes they couldn’t be salvaged) and stored them in many various vials that he kept hidden in his room. He also changed his clothes, so that it would take less ink to reform them whenever he teleported. The Doodle Sphere looked much simpler now, and the only time he would teleport into the Multiverse was either because he was summoned, because he was fighting Error, or because he was helping Creators to create.

He spent most of his time on the Worlds In Progress now- working extra hard to make sure that their flow of creativity was as strong as it could be. He didn’t talk to Dream or Blue as much as he had used to, which he knew worried them, but if he wasted time then that could mean another set of vials or so not coming to life. 

It was hard, but he managed.

Ink held tightly to the hope that this would end soon, that he was worrying about nothing.

The emptiness in his chest began to feel all the more foreboding.

* * *

The only thing left in the Doodle Sphere was his house, now. All the decorations and furniture had been taken down so that they could not only be used for paints but also to make room for the vials. It had been like this for three weeks now, and he never left his house unless he was leaving the Doodle Sphere entirely, the emptiness of his home terrifying him to his very core.

He didn’t leave for Error, Dream, Blue, or summonings anymore. All of his attention was fixed solely on the new worlds, even as his supply for the paints dwindled further and further. He did his best to take the bare minimum of paints required for him to function, but in the end, he knew there was no use.

He was being abandoned.

_Again._

He hardly slept anymore- what few dreams he had were replaced with Nightmares full of nothing. No matter how far he walked, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he screamed, he couldn’t feel anything.

Sometimes when he woke up from those dreams, he’d start clawing at himself in an attempt to feel _something_. He’d forget that he still had his paints, that he hadn’t run out yet, that not everyone had abandoned him, and the pain would only numb his body further until rational thought kicked in and he was able to reach over and pick an emotion to help him.

Never Sadness or Fear, though.

 _Never_ start with those. 

He absently rubbed his forearms at the reminder of what he had done for both respective paints as he sat there in his house, waiting for a creator to call on him again. In fact, just a few minutes ago the same appendages had been bleeding the black ink that made up his magic, and he had had to use some of his paints to heal himself.

If he was still in contact with his friends, they’d be ashamed of him. Disappointed that he had let himself fall this far. Perhaps even angry that he wasn’t helping them fight off Error and Nightmare, that he had abandoned them in his inherent selfishness.

But he couldn’t help himself. Above all else, the thing he wanted most was to feel. To have the ability to experience even the smallest amount of what they had felt.

… 

…

… 

He did his best to not let the guilt eat him away.

* * *

The last thing to go once his reserves were gone was the house, obviously. It had enough colors to last him another week, and the colors that the creators dropped would only last a few hours despite there being days in between them.

He didn’t dare try to teleport anymore, and his body was numb with pain as he felt the creators slowly start to give up, as well as the universes being destroyed. Sometimes he could hear the creator’s apologies- or so he liked to tell himself, because in the end, deep down, that meant that they still cared for him.

Seconds blended into hours as he sat there with nothing to pass the time but his own thoughts and his slowly dwindling supply of emotions. Sometimes, he’d forget that they even existed and would spend who-knows how long just sitting there until he finally remembered that he still had some and took a few, small sips from where he remained sitting under where the paints came in. He’d try to put them in more vials the moment he could, but most of the time he ended up absorbing them without meaning to. He almost didn’t even care anymore.

He was just numb.

* * *

He was on the last drops of his last set of vials when Error managed to find his way into what had once been the Doodle Sphere. Dust and blood soaked his clothes to the point that a single movement sent some form of death and decay onto the white floor. For once he had bags under his sockets that were void of both life and light, and the grim look on his face lacked the determination that he had had before. He didn’t look victorious, or even happy in the last strands of insanity.

Just tired.

Like Ink.

The moment their eyes met told them both everything that they would have needed to know.

Ink wouldn’t fight.

Error had destroyed all but the original.

Ink was helpless.

Error didn’t want to fight him.

Ink couldn’t die.

Error could.

It was silent for several moments as they stared and observed each other, the only two true outsiders to this whole mess. Ink couldn't help but wonder how his friends had died.

Which AU was the last he killed off? Which Person? Who had fallen first? Had Error snapped just after he finished, or had he spent some time frolicking around to savor his victory, the realization slowly sinking in as to what exactly he had done- what he had become? Who was the hardest to battle? How many souls did Reaper have to reap before Error killed him?

Error was the first one to avert his eye lights. He took a long and deep breath before letting out a stuttering sigh, and Ink could almost hear the words that Error didn't want to say.

He had come here for a final goodbye, even though they hadn't talked at all throughout the years.

Error turned his back to Ink and took a few steps away.

For the first time in what felt like ages, just before Error could leave so that he could kill himself, Ink opened his mouth to speak.

“I’ll miss you.”

Error glanced back at him, his eye lights still not present and his face giving away no hints as to what his thought process was. He was the last thing standing besides Ink himself that had been created for the Multiverse, the last creation to have walked through each and every AU, the last thing that kept what Little creation was left flowing.

And then, without a word, Error opened a portal to the Anti-Void. Ink could hear the familiar whine of multiple blasters as Error walked towards his own death, accepting it with open arms.

The portal closed.

* * *

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There was nothing.

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What was nothing?

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Was he nothing?

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No, that couldn’t be.

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He could see his clothes and bones.

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He wasn’t nothing.

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What was he then?

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Was there truly nothing?

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Was he really alone?

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He was waiting.

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Waiting for what?

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Just waiting.

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He didn’t want to move.

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Why should he move?

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He was waiting, after all.

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Waiting for something.

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Always waiting.

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Alone.

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* * *

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_Plink._

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_Plink._

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_Plink._

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He blinked, slowly looking up.

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_Plink!_

The second the droplet landed in his eye socket he recoiled, looking back at the white nothing on the ground as he furiously scrubbed at his eye sockets. 

When he turned around to look up again in such a way that whatever it was couldn’t get in, he couldn’t help but stare.

It…

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It wasn’t white.

...

...

... 

He… He knew the name of it.

He knew what it was called.

It was…

...

...

Yellow?

A small smile grew on his face, and he slowly moved his hands to let the drops of color fall onto them.

...

...

...

Another color outside of yellow swiftly joined, and for whatever reason, he could recall its name too.

...

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Green. 

...

Green and Yellow.

Yellow and Green.

The first things he saw outside of nothing.

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...

...

Then came Orange.

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And Blue.

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.

Pink.

...

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Violet.

...

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Magenta.

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.

Red.

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Purple.

..

A Darker Blue.

.

“You…” He breathed, his voice soft and quiet after who knew how long of not using it. “You came back?”

Came back? 

Was there someone else out there after all?

But who had left? 

Why had they left?

Tears began to fall from his eye sockets with all of the different emotions that were coursing through him. 

The colors came in steadily now, falling above from a place unknown to him in small streams. He stood up, his legs wobbly and numb from disuse, but he didn’t care. He walked into the small waterfall, and his smile grew wider and wider even as more tears began to fall.

There- there was something here! In the nothing! 

A giddy laugh escaped him at the strange feeling of the liquids washing over him.

Wait…

He was… named after these, wasn’t he?

A name was pretty useless when he was surrounded by nothing- but he knew, deep down, that he had one. It had something to do with these… paints?

…

Didn’t he have something to keep track of it?

To remind him?

... 

Tilting his head, he allowed himself to finally look down at his attire. There were black scribbles on his brown scarf, and he could vaguely recall that he had written them with-

“Ink.” He mumbled, caressing some of the notes with his thumb. A good majority of the notes were blurred or ruined by the paint falling on his skull, but there was one note in particular that he could make out.

He was a Guardian.

_Guardian._

...

...

That sounded... right.

And really cool!

The paint began to fall even faster now, and it was only then that he realized that he had vials matching the colors of the rainbow waterfall. He stepped out of it so that he could use the vials to collect the paints- who knows, maybe it would come into use later? There had to be a connection, he could feel it deep within his bones, but he didn’t know what.

Eventually, he’d learn that he could create with the paints. He’d rebuild(?) his Doodle Sphere and goof off with his creations, the flow steady and consistent. He’d relearn how to leave the Doodle Sphere and recognize that he had once guarded countless versions of one of the worlds. He’d go to the new worlds that were nothing like Undertale, but still inspired by it in such ways that they became included in the circle.

Soon, copies of those worlds would form, and they would grow. Occasionally, an Undertale AU would come back to life for the smallest of moments, giving him hints as to what his life had once been like.

Then, more original worlds with their own fan base and multiverses would grow- and they would continue to grow even after they were finished, inspiring even more works and ideas.

And Ink, the once Guardian of AUs, would become the Guardian of All- his name only to be whispered in vague stories and referenced to through characters inspired by what he had once been.

But for now, as he finished filling his vials up and smiled up at the nothing where the paints came from, he wouldn’t worry about it.

After all, it wasn’t every day that something joined him in the nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if Comyet ever reads this, this idea has been stuck in my head ever since I first read through his FAQ. I never actually planned on writing it though, so when I woke up this morning and wrote this I was very surprised. I apologize for putting your boy through such pain. ;~;
> 
> Also, I know that it sounded like the Multiverse came back to life at the end of the story, but that's not what happened. The depicted events you see before you are my interpretation of what will happen to Ink if the FANDOM dies- what will happen inside the Multiverse once the fandom just... doesn't exist anymore. What will happen once they stop creating and stop enjoying themselves here. 
> 
> The new worlds and universes that I described? Those are Original Works who had originated in, or were inspired by, Undertale and it's fandom. Undertale is the link between Ink and these new Original works, and it's because of this link that he was able to get back to being himself at the end of the story. 
> 
> I hope this clears up a few things, to those who think that this is a cycle or something that can be prevented. :'3


End file.
